"Text" = spoken
'Text' = thought
"Text" = sign or hand signal
Text = onomatopoeia
Chapter 11: Of Honor and Sin
September 30th, 2568
12:14 Local Time
New Sydney, Minerva, Lambda Rho System
Guard duty to a diplomat was not within Phoenix's normal wheelhouse. Hell, they hated guard missions. They didn't have much say with this one, Andrew had pissed off a very important Sangheili about two weeks prior. Said representative of the Swords of Sangheilios decided to get some just desserts. Andrew was on edge about the whole thing. A diplomatic parade with a VIP standing through the sunroof of his transport. The team's new fame amongst the populace making the crowd louder. Andrew wasn't the only one who felt that way. Thermer was more than a little twitchy. Andrew's voice broke the team's silence, "Next time I brutalize an enemy, don't let me go to debriefing alone. Or we may end up on a job like this."
"Andrew, keep it quiet and stay on guard. I don't like this and I don't like that the investigation into that spook hasn't gone anywhere," Thermer barked at his second. It was true though, seventeen days and nothing had been produced but more questions. Questions that Section Three dodged like plasma grenades. Andrew shrugged at Thermer and kept walking alongside the slow moving car. The parade was supposed to go from the Capitol building to a civilian spaceport that had been cleared out for the day. Nobody in Phoenix was looking forward to the walk.
The lead vehicle entered an intersection. The crowd on one side parted in a panic as a box truck crashed through the barrier. It slammed into the lead truck causing them both to spin around the intersection, narrowly missing the crowd on the other side. Every other vehicle in the parade stopped. "Eyes up Phoenix, we got trouble," Thermer called out. Andrew reflexively grabbed his SAW from the magnetic hardpoint on his armor. "Andrew, secure the VIP and get Sylas out here. King, grab your new toy from the truck. Sam, watch for snipers. UNSC local forces, you are now under the command of Fireteam Phoenix. Vanguard Two, assess Vanguard One's condition," Thermer's voice was cold and calculated. 'I am not letting what happened in March happen again. I'll be damned if we lose our freedom over this.'
Andrew
The Spartan-III slid across the hood of the car and ran to the rear passenger side door. He nearly ripped the door from the vehicle as he opened it. Andrew grabbed hold of the Sangheili's ornate armor and yanked down. "Stay here until I say it's safe. If you die, I will kill myself just to murder your ghost, am I clear," the representative could only nod in response. "Driver, passenger window down. Sylas, auf mich." The massive dog leapt through the open window and trotted to his handler's side. "Guter hund, bereit zu jagen?" Sylas lowered his stance and growled in response.
Andrew and Sylas moved towards the front of the car and looked towards the intersection. The mangled trucks had left debris scattered around the area. It seemed as though civilians had finally started to comprehend what was happening and ran for the nearest safe building. Someone hopped out of the hostile box truck holding an MA5K. Andrew leveled his SAW to fire but was beaten to it by Thermer. Their leader's DMR popped once and a fine mist of red sprayed from the back of the insurgent's head.
Screaming, even with the noise filters in his helmet, he still heard the civilians screaming as they ran. Andrew pulled a metal ball from a pouch and threw it into the intersection. He threw another at Rearguard Two. The third he dropped at his feet. "Softballs deployed and synced with Artemis. Reading several targets in the box truck and within a one block radius. Looks like these are the weapons supplied by O.N.I," Andrew kept his SAW leveled on the truck's open rear. Thermer threw a hand signal towards Andrew, the Spartan-III nodded in response and opened up on the truck. He didn't stop until his magazine emptied. "Vanguard Two, move in. I've got you covered," Andrew ordered as he reloaded.
The troopers of Vanguard Two moved forward slowly. As they checked over the allied vehicle, the Artemis pinged new weapon signatures. More of the ill begotten firearms. "Vanguard One are all incapacitated, but alive. Removing them from the vehicle." Andrew responded to them immediately. "Understood. Make it hasty, more hostiles closing in." THUNK! Andrew looked on in abject horror, Vanguard Two collectively scrambled for cover as a forty millimeter grenade bounced off the ground and detonated under Vanguard One's fuel tank. BOOM! Team status reported flatlines from both Vanguard teams. Eight troopers gone as the two trucks sent debris in every direction. No civilians had been caught in the blast, but Phoenix were mortified.
Thermer's voice came over TEAM-COMM first. "Rearguard, defensive formation near the VIP. Andrew, take command, I need to call in support." Andrew blinked his acknowledgement and gathered himself. "Rearguard, I need four of you in close proximity to the VIP and the rest fanned out. King, use that supplemental to block 40 mils if possible. Sam, covering fire with your DMR, but keep an eye out for sniper fire. Eyes up everyone, hostiles approaching."
King
Brandon winked his acknowledgement to Andrew. The new supplemental armor for his bracer was in fact a large telescoping riot shield. The absurdity of a Spartan needing an old school shield wasn't lost on anyone. With a click of a button the shield sprang open, the solid Titanium-A slabs locked into place forming a formidable defense. It wasn't light by any means, but it could take one hell of a punch.
King held his pistol in his right hand, taking pot shots when he could. His motion tracker marked a target behind him. King spun on his heel, weapon ready, and found a child no more than ten years of age. The boy was in tears, bawling for his mother. Even though the Spartan was a textbook sadist, there was something about the scared innocent boy that brought out what little compassion he had. His pistol found itself back on his hip. King scooped the child up and sheltered him behind the wall of titanium attached to his arm. "Hey buddy, I'm gonna get you to safety. We'll find your mom after the bad men are gone, okay?"
The young boy's face was a myriad of emotions; terror, awe, hope, confusion. Several bullets slammed into the shield, causing the boy to cling to King's chest. 'Fucking pinkos attack a damn parade and then fire at the guy saving a kid. I'll rip their fucking teeth out if I get one alive.' King kept marching towards the VIP vehicle. THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK. More rounds slammed into his shield.
"King, I need you fighting. What the hell are you doing?" Brandon gritted his teeth at Andrew's interruption. The kid was shaking against King's chest plate. Another staccato of gunfire. The child whimpered. Suddenly the Spartan-IV understood how Andrew felt before losing it in combat. "Civilian rescue boss. Child, need to save him." Andrew returned a green light and cut over local comms. "Rearguard Two, cover Phoenix Three. Make sure he gets that child to the VIP." The gunfire around King suddenly shifted focus. Fewer and fewer rounds hit his shield. More and more the kid loosened his grip on King's chest.
Andrew was waiting at the VIP car for his brother-in-arms. Their charge was placed in the back seat. Before the two went back to fighting Andrew placed a hand on King's shoulder and gave him a short nod with a Spartan Smile.
Caster
Sam's DMR popped rhythmically as he found and dispatched his targets. Hearing King speak of carrying a child on the field made Caster's blood boil. This attack was bold. Open combat in New Sydney, civilians everywhere, too many distractions. Sam slammed the butt of his rifle into a man's nose. The insurgent dropped faster than a SOIEV. Caster new the man was dead on impact.
A round slammed into the ground near Sam. The vapor trail, the crack, the thump, he knew the sound too damn well. The round was a 14.5x114mm APFSDS fired from a stolen sniper, likely an older SRS99D-S2. Sam bolted for the closest cover and swapped for his sniper, an SRS99-S5. Another round slammed just behind him. A HUD application began tracing the vapor trail back to the sniper's nest. This gunman was a nuisance, placing another round far too close to Sam's left arm. 'This guy ain't even a fucking PIG. Lead, exhale.' CRACK! Sam returned the rifle to his back and grabbed his M6H from his hip. BANG BANG BANG! Sam placed his shots with pinpoint precision. Each one ended a different combatant. Sam's cover took fire, causing him to bolt for safety. Another wave of insurgents came into the area, this time from the side where the truck broke through the barricades.
"Boss, where's that goddamn support," Sam shouted over comms. He didn't get an answer, just an amber light from Thermer. 'Shit.'
Thermer
The popcorn clatter of Jesse's MA37 sounded off as he dispatched yet another target. Any minute now he would get word back. Certainly command wouldn't let the team get overrun. Certainly they wouldn't be allowed to buy the farm today. "Phoenix Actual, this is command. Spartan support is three mikes out. Dropzone is marked on your tacmap. Out." Thermer breathed a sigh of relief. "Copy that Command. Phoenix Actual out."
Thermer's rifle clattered more as he opened up on a group insurgents hiding behind the corner of a building. Chips of duracrete flecked off as the 7.62x51mm rounds impacted the building. A flash of brown ran passed the corner of the building and dragged one of his targets out. Jesse didn't hesitate to take care of Sylas' present. The dog repeated this process until the two had taken care of the insurgents behind the building. While he was cautious about the dog initially, Sylas had proven invaluable to the team. Thermer let a small grin slip as he heard Andrew call for their fifth member.
Jesse was lifted off his feet, the concussive blast completely unexpected. King rushed to Thermer, covering him with the shield as the leader stood up. His energy shields cycled as he took cover behind his third man. Support couldn't come fast enough. Mission clock showed two minutes until help arrived. "Two mikes until help arrives. Two mikes."
Jot 'Zusamee
Jot snapped the breach of the M319 Grenade Launcher shut, irritated that his enemies were so resilient. Truth be told, he was supposed to be hunting the green one, but the black and white clad demon was an opportunistic shot. The Sangheili warrior scanned the battlefield looking for his true target. He found the green one fighting one of the human rebels in close quarters, easily overpowering the meager rebel.
Jot hated humans. He loathed them. That they would study, analyze and destroy the relics left behind by the gods; it was repulsive. That they would augment themselves in such an unnatural way and not just accept their place as weak, pathetic creatures, Jot found it sickening. Despite all this, the demons had gained his respect over the years. Their unwavering determination and combat prowess was something to be admired. So, as he approached the green demon, Jot did the most human thing he could think of. He spun the Spartan around to face him, and punched him in the visor.
The Spartan staggered back and shook his head. Not a "no," but the kind to unfaze oneself. Jot hadn't even readied his sword by the time the boot impacted his torso. The swiftness of it all was shocking. He hadn't heard the thrusters on this one's armor fire, meaning he was capable of moving faster than Jot had seen. 'Was the demon toying with the rebels? Was he actually enjoying their futile attempts to kill him?' Jot squashed that train of thought as his foe closed in. The demon's weapon leered at him. Then the Spartan spoke. "Drop your weapons and surrender. UNSC forces will be here in approximately two minutes to either kill or arrest any remaining hostiles. This is your only warning."
In a flash Jot had ignited his sword and lunged at the Spartan. The gall of this creature to suggest that he just throw away his honor. Jot would teach him a lesson with utmost prejudice. He missed though. At the end of his swing there was nothing, no demon, just empty air. Then came the first blow. The Spartan slammed his fist into the Sangheili's gut, causing Jot to double double over. Then the second strike. The Spartan's knee slammed into Jot's combat harness, the force knocking the sword master to the ground. The Spartan spoke again. "I've fought sword masters before. I won't be so easy."
It was the Spartan's tone that angered Jot the most. That flat uncaring tone, it was insulting. It was as if the demon didn't want to give him the time of day. "I'll make you pay for your insolence, Demon." Jot lunged again, this time missing as the Spartan sidestepped. The demon spoke again. "The name is Andrew. It's a little rude misname someone like that."
"Are you going to keep running away from my attacks or are you going to fight? I thought you Demons relished combat, or am I mistaken?" Jot's taunt didn't seem to faze Andrew at all. The two walked in a slow circle, sizing one another up. Andrew stopped after a moment and spoke once more. "Sylas, angehen." Jot was confused. He'd never heard such a dialect before. Suddenly a massive object slammed into his back forcing him to stagger towards the Spartan. The boot came faster than he could react. He could've sworn he heard the nanolaminate of his combat harness crunch as the Spartan seemingly stepped through him. Jot skidded across the pavement for the briefest of seconds. He checked the harness as he stood, finding a dent where he was kicked. Next to the Spartan now stood a creature. Large, covered in fur and adorned with a combat harness of its own. If Jot recalled correctly it was called a dog. In the 28 cycles since the Great War started never had he seen one of these dogs used in combat, so why now? What drove them to use animals in combat when drones can be used just as easily?
Jot squashed these questions. The Spartan opened fire, his rounds chewing up Jot's shield. The Sangheili warrior ran to the nearest cover, the second vanguard truck. His shield shimmered as it recharged. With his plasma rifle in one hand and his sword in the other Jot looked out across the hood of the truck. "Boo." Jot spun around, swinging his plasma rifle in a wild punch. His attack struck the Spartan across the visor.
Andrew
The blow hurt, it hurt bad. Even worse was that his head slammed into the armored truck. This warrior was tough, he'd give him that. Andrew blinked until his vision cleared. The Spartan checked his HUD for a sit-rep, finding his visor shattered across the right side. His eyesight became blurred again, this time he could see nothing but red on his right side. Red, blood, Andrew was bleeding into his eye. As if the day couldn't get worse; he now had a new scar, needed armor repairs, couldn't go off half-cocked, and needed to worry about civilians. The dam broke. He slammed a fist into the truck as he stood up.
Jot kicked Andrew in the chest before he could get up. He skittered across the street. Jot fired off a few shots, the plasma bolts washed over his armor, melting the top layer of it. 'Great, more 'VERSE-DAMNED repairs.' Andrew scrambled to his feet. Jot was rushing straight for him. "Sylas!" Andrew hadn't even thought of who he was calling for. The Hellhound came out of left field, wrapping his jaws around Jot's left wrist and threw the charging sword master from his feet again. "Sylas, loslassen. Auf mich." The dog just managed to get away before Jot could swing at him.
From the corner of his vision Andrew could see more Spartans entering the fray. Support had arrived, finally. He would've been relieved if it wasn't for the fight he was locked in. As the Spartan walked to his foe he could feel the augs taking hold. He fired a few shots from his sidearm. The incendiary rounds did little more than make Jot's shield flare up again. Andrew's sneer could be seen past his shattered visor. The blood streaming down his face made it that much more intimidating. Jot attempted to stand and was greeted by Andrew's boot. The kick wrenched Jot's head to the side and knocked him down again. As he knelt down over the Sangheili, any and all restraint left Andrew's mind. He tossed his sidearm and yanked his knife from its sheath on his chest. Jot caught the Spartan's wrist before he could land the final blow. Andrew pushed down with all his might; forcing the blade closer, millimeter by millimeter. "Sylas, handgelenk." The Hellhound gripped Jot by the wrist again and pulled the warrior's arm wide. Andrew took advantage and stabbed Jot in the side, right under his combat harness.
Jot began to struggle like a caged animal. He refused to die on this backwater world. Andrew stabbed again and again. Slowly the Sangheili gave in, his wounds draining him of energy. Andrew spoke again. "Identify yourself, warrior." Jot was baffled but humored the Spartan. Weakly he spoke his name, "Jot 'Zusamee." The Spartan pulled the knife from Jot's abdomen one last time and pressed it against the Sangheili's long neck. "Then I'll make this quick, Jot 'Zusamee. You have brought honor to your clan. You have fought valiantly, may Urs' light shine upon you in the afterlife." With one final push the Spartan sunk the blade into his enemy and severed the carotid artery and trachea. Jot rasped and coughed before losing consciousness, after which Andrew severed his brain stem.
The Spartan slowly stood up. Violet blood dripped from his hand. The fighting had stopped, but Andrew still heard gunfire in the distance. "Boss, sitrep? I still hear fighting." The Spartan limped to his leader. Sylas trailed behind, taking a seat and leaning against Andrew when he stopped. Thermer looked him up and down, the demolitions expert was in rough shape. The entire right side of his visor was shattered and cracks webbed across the left. His greaves and right gauntlet were scorched and partially melted. He was missing his SAW and sidearm. Even without the sensor feed Thermer knew Andrew's vitals were a mess. "Our AO is cleared. Rebel contingents have started gunfights across the city. Fireteams Aegis and Aquila are on station. Rearguard suffered five casualties, no dead. Medevac is on the way. You need to smooth out before worrying about anything else."
Andrew looked down at his left hand, the way it trembled was all the confirmation he needed. Reaching into his med pouch the Spartan fished out a syringe. Screwing it into the port in his techsuit's neck and clicking the plunger release, a familiar cold flowed up his neck. Yelling nearby caught his attention and he turned to see another Spartan arguing with a distraught woman. "Spartan, identify," Andrew limped over to where the two were. "Aegis Two, this woman is looking for her son. If you ask me, she needs to stay in the building she just came out of." Andrew sent King an Amber light to catch the Spartan's attention. As soon as his battle brother looked at him Andrew signed one word, "Kid."
King rushed over to the VIP vehicle and scooped up the child once more. Andrew looked into Aegis Two's visor and spoke. "Step aside Spartan, Phoenix will handle this," turning now to the woman he spoke once more, "Ma'am it's alright, Spartan King is bringing your son over right now. He's unharmed." The woman slumped against Andrew and quietly sobbed. In the smallest voice he'd ever heard, the woman thanked him. King arrived with the boy in his arms, seated as though the gauntlets were his personal throne. The kid jumped down and rushed to his mother. The two embraced, sobbing loudly, not caring who or what saw them. Andrew knelt down, just below eye level with the woman. "Ma'am, you two should get to shelter. There's still fighting throughout the city. You'll be safer indoors, I don't want more people to get hurt. Please," Andrew asked. She nodded, grabbed the boy's hand and ran towards a cafe on the first floor of a high rise.
That's when the camera drone caught his attention. "Inspiring stuff Spartan. Kinda disappointed I haven't seen you down at the club." It was the reporter who'd done the piece on Fort Keyes' Spartan contingent. Andrew turned to face her, his hand still trembling, the blood on his face drying. "What was that with the Sangheili? It looked ritualistic." King put a hand on Andrew's shoulder. The Spartan wasn't in a good mental space and King knew he'd need an anchor.
"I gave him last rites. Well, the Sangheili equivalency. I may not be religious, but that warrior deserved them. He fought with conviction and not once did he attack me while I was unarmed. He upheld his code of honor until the bitter end. The least I can do is send him to the afterlife with respect and recognition. You need to get outta here. There are still firefights all across the city," with that said he turned away to find his missing weapons.
Pelican en Route to Fort Keyes
12:25 Local Time
"What are you suggesting Spartan G199," Osman hissed. This call had gone as well as he'd expected. A conference call between Phoenix, Lieutenant Commander McKnight and CINCONI Admiral Serin Osman on the matter of the insurrection in the Lambda Rho system; the tension was palpable. Back in New Sydney fireteam Aquila was coordinating with local PD and Army forces against the insurgents, meanwhile Aegis had been tasked with escorting the VIP back to base and providing security until he could be taken off planet.
"What I'm suggesting, Admiral, is that ONI performs a joint operation with the Spartan branch in order to arrest and interrogate a rogue agent who has over-extended his operational authority and aided elements of the Red Hand. I'm suggesting that I do what your branch taught me to do and get answers out of someone who has the blood of an entire platoon on his hands."
Serin turned her attention to McKnight. "What are your thoughts on this Lieutenant Commander?" McKnight mulled over what had over the last few months. She chose her words carefully, "I believe that whether we allow Andrew to do it or not doesn't matter. He'll do it anyway in the pursuit of justice for the fallen troopers. I also believe that removing this rogue element would prove beneficial to the Stability of Lambda Rho as a whole. Rebel supplies would be heavily cut back and their intel would become word of mouth as opposed to a legitimate leak. Should you authorize this, Fireteam Phoenix has my permission to act as soon as they get to base."
Osman looked back at the feed from Phoenix's pelican. Glass from his visor was still stuck in Andrew's brow. Thermer's techsuit had cuts through it and the plating bore the unmistakable marks of an explosion. Sam was tuning his prosthetic arm. King just sat in the background, fiddling with what appeared to be a broken knife. The group appeared to be worse for wear, but the fire in Andrew's eyes was unmistakable. He was doing this with or without authorization. "Fine. You arrest him, throw him in the brig and I'll get a blacksite ready for you. You'll ship out for it before daybreak tomorrow." Osman and the Commander signed off. With the holoprojector shutting down, the whole troop bay was cast in a slowly dying light.
Translations:
Sylas, auf mich. = Sylas, on me.
Guter hund, bereit zu jagen? = Good dog, ready to hunt?
Sylas, angehen. = Sylas, tackle
Sylas, loslassen. Auf mich. = Sylas release. On me.
Sylas, handgelenk. = Sylas, wrist.
AN
So yeah, it's been what three months now? This has been a slog to get through. I put myself in a position where there was a lot going on, but I had no real direction with it. Stack that with a return to work back in late August and I didn't get much time to work on this. Next chapter should be easier as I have a general plan of what will occur.
